A covenant is what you chose to start the story with us. You pulled aside this guy named Abram and changed his name, his life and our whole world. The funny thing about the covenant? It was all you. Poor jerk was asleep. You walked through the bodies. You walk through us. A marriage is a covenant. Thank the good Lord for that. That means that when it counts, and one or both of us poor jerks is asleep, you are the one walking through. Passing through our decaying bodies, and bringing life into our midst. It's real life too. Not a pressed on decorative one. Like this crazy bench I'm sitting on. It's made of concrete but pressed into the concrete are leaves. Or I should say the leaves were pressed into it at one point. The image is there but certainly when I look at it, leaves, they are not. They are mere images. So are we, right? Could it be we are that far off from what we are supposed to look like? Certainly we are that far off from how we are supposed to act. The truth is I don't know. Maybe what we call leaves look like stones to you anyway. Maybe we have to learn how to see all over again. Learn how to walk. They say you should crawl first. Some of us don't want to but most of us do. The thing is we are not counting on us, to fix ourselves or anything. We are certainly not counting on each other, for if we can't count on ourselves to help numero uno, why should we give number two a shot? No, we are counting on you. Creator of the whole, blasted, universe. To walk it out through us. Right through the middle of us. To keep the promise you made to us, to yourself, you. You.